The Butcher
by Iarejedi
Summary: Another cut scene of our dear Colonel Tavington. ;) R


A/N: Another Tavington fic taken place in another cut scene called "the butcher.' I thought it was a great scene and gave his a lil more insight on our favorite Colonel. Hope y'all like it. As always I do not own anything that is The Patriot. *shrugs* and don't forget to review!!!

'The Butcher'

            Colonel Tavington felt pretty good that morning, something becoming rarer as the war went on. The fight had gone well and the British had taken the field. The battle at Camden had been a complete victory. It had been the Green Dragoons who had won the day. He was proud to know that. The rebels were afraid of his Dragoons. They had taken one look at his cavalry and fled. He knew they were mostly afraid of him, because of all the nasty rumors floating around of what he did to rebels, most of those rumors being true. He enjoyed causing those pitiful colonials fear.

            If he had not been such an uptight fellow he might have whistled or shown his good feelings in some other way. In any case the usual smirk was gone from his face. An almost smile touched his lips as he cantered his horse into the camp with Captain Bordon beside him. Perhaps now Cornwallis would appreciate all that Tavington was striving in this war. He was only trying to further the British cause in the best ways possible. If it meant being 'brutal and ignoring the chain of command' then so be it. All he wished was to gain his own glory from this bloody war. He would do anything to bring some dignity and honor back to the Tavington name. 

            He drew his high strung, chestnut horse to a halt and dismounted with easy grace. A soldier was immediately there to take his horse from him, as he walked away. Bordon dismounted and followed quickly behind him as usual. Tavington reached up and removed his helmet and tucked it under his right arm, as he walked towards General Cornwallis' tent with long, business like strides. He never much looked forward to speaking with the General. Cornwallis always had a way of finding something Tavington had done wrong and picking it apart. He usually liked to do this in front of Tavington's other superior officers just to humiliate him farther. Tavington **hated** it. It could be even the most inane thing, but Cornwallis could find a way of exaggerating it. He was almost certain the General did this just for his own pleasure when he got bored. Cornwallis was constant complaining about his 'brutal fighting tactics.' He was worried about Tavington make him look bad. God forbid if he got his hands dirty or his men did not follow his commands. 

            All in all this probably would turn out to be another interview that would go wrong. He decided for now that he should try to keep a semi-good attitude. He schooled his face into the typical emotionless expression he usually wore when speaking to the General. That expression never failed to bother the hell out of Cornwallis. He smirked at the thought. He always found pleasure in the little things in life. He strode up to the tent and walked barged in. He never was much good at being formal about how he entered a room. He saw a few of the officers shoot him rather disapproving looks. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, like he cared what they thought about him. It was Cornwallis thought that was important. Many of the officers he recognized and was not overly pleased to see them. Most did not like him because of his independent nature and cruelty in battle. That was fine with him. He did not like them either obviously. He thought far to much for their comfort. He was supposed to just take orders and go on his way. He was not supposed to question the orders given to him. It was not his place. He was supposed to be a brainwashed walking zombie like the rest of the soldiers out there. 

            He stopped before a table piled with food and drinks, leaving Captain Bordon at the door of the tent. He glanced back to where the General was being helped into his coat. Tavington once again resisted the urge to roll his eyes and heave a sigh. Cornwallis was such a vain man, constantly worried about his appearance and his clothes. He wondered how Cornwallis ever dared going into battle for fear of his coat possibly getting mussed. So it was no surprise to him to see the General trying on yet another new coat.

               "My lord, General!" he called, announcing his presence in a loud voice, earning an irritated look from Cornwallis. "Gentleman, glorious day for his Majesty and England!" he glanced over the other officers as he spoke.

            General O'Hara turned from his group of friends he was talking to and regarded him with an expression of contempt and disapproval. Tavington shot him a death glare that made O'Hara tighten his jaw in anger. He found O'Hara to be a pansy. His porcelain complexion, thin tall figure, and girly face sometimes made Tavington wonder in amusement if O'Hara was really a girl trying to pose as a man. O'Hara was always worried about his hair and uniform, playing Cornwallis' lapdog, kissing up to the other officers, and hiding behind the troops and the General to protect himself. Tavington wondered how in the world this man could have even managed to get in the King's military. His family had to be close friends with someone high up in the military to get **him** in. 

            Their great dislike for one another had come close to causing a few fights. Of course, O'Hara had always found away to weasel out of them or find away to make him look bad. O'Hara seemed to enjoying finding away to belittle him in every way possible. Last time he had gotten Tavington in trouble over having caught him drinking 'to the point of stupor' and 'behaving most unbecoming of a British officer.' Tavington had ended up giving the little rat a black eye during that incident. Well, Tavington would get him back for that one. He had a few tricks up his sleeve yet.

            Cornwallis dismissed the man helping him with his coat and turned to Tavington. "Colonel Tavington," the General greeted him in a less than enthusiastic manner. 

            Tavington turned from O'Hara to look at Cornwallis as he walked toward him. 

                "Always to earlier," Cornwallis went on with a sigh.

               _Here it comes_, thought Tavington.

               "Always to eager for glory," Cornwallis stopped on the other side of the table from him and bent to pick up a small morsel for his dog.

            Tavington blinked in surprise and glanced over at O'Hara, who was smirking at him. What had he done now to annoy the General? It was always something. 

               "For victory, my lord," he replied, becoming self conscious of the blood on his face and clothes that was certainly causing part of the General's distaste for him right now.

            He glanced down at the black and white great Dane Cornwallis was feeding a treat to. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, knowing the General was not really listening to him. He always played with his dogs when he was not interested in the other person's conversation. Tavington had the urge to pull his gun out and shoot the dogs just to see Cornwallis' face if he did. Then maybe he would listen to Tavington when he spoke. He hated to be ignored.

               "Only if we took the field," Cornwallis shot back, glancing up at him in irritation. Did he really expect him to lose? He had never lost a battle yet. He did not intend to. "Next time you'll wait for my command!" he snapped at Tavington.

            Tavington furrowed his brow in surprise at the General. Where had this come from? Yes, he had come onto the field earlier than Cornwallis had told him to. He failed to see the problem. The rebels had lost and they had won the battle. What was he upset about? Tavington had gone earlier to finish the battle quickly so they could get out of there. Why was that so bad?

               "It appears Colonel Tavington prefers to follow his own command," O'Hara stepped over to stand behind Cornwallis, giving him a pointed look. 

            Tavington shot him a look of pure venom, which O'Hara ignored. He wouldn't be so brave if there weren't so many others around him. Once again he was trying to make Tavington look bad while boosting his own self image at the same time in Cornwallis' eyes. The General already liked the slimy little bastard, much to his great annoyance. He just liked to keep proving to Tavington that he was higher in Cornwallis's opinion than him. Tavington hated kiss ups; they irritated him to no end. O'Hara was trying to get under his skin and doing a damn good job of it.

               "General O'Hara tells me you've earned the nickname 'the butcher' among the populace," Cornwallis told him, still feeding his dogs, and looking up at him with a hard stare.

            Tavington looked back at the General with suppressed rage. So that was what this was all about and why O'Hara was gloating over him. This was about his brutal tactics once again. He shook his head a little and started to say something, to find away to make it seem not as bad as it sounded.

               "We'll discuss this tomorrow," Cornwallis cut in, picking up a glass of wine.

            Tavington gripped his helmet a little tighter and forced himself not to snap back at him. He hated the way this man belittled him and then dismissed him as though he were nothing. He wondered why he'd even allowed himself to hope that Cornwallis would begin to respect him and efforts he made for the war. Cornwallis turned away from his, leaving him standing there feeling angry and humiliated once again. 

               "Gentleman, my compliments," Cornwallis raised his wine glass, looking at O'Hara with approval. Once again O'Hara had been raised in the General's eyes and Tavington lowered. He wanted desperately to kill that prissy doll of a man. 

               "To victory!" O'Hara toasted, smiling widely as he raised his glass. His eyes flicked over at Tavington and gave him a triumphant look. 

               Oh yes. He defiantly wanted to kill him right now.

            They all turned their backs on him, effectively dismissing him. He closed his mouth and clenched his teeth. It was only his great self-control keeping him from leaping over the table and strangling them all. He tensed his shoulders and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down a little. He turned and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk back out of the tent. He glanced at Bordon, who returned his look with a small shrug. He knew how the Colonel felt just by the look in his eyes. He was glad that he was not on the receiving end of Tavington's temper.

            Tavington cast a fleeting look at the portrait of the Great Dane hanging on the tent wall. He growled softly and stormed out, ducking beneath the tent door. Bordon followed behind him, staying at respectful distance just in case Tavington decided to take his anger out on him.

            Tavington grumbled under his breath all the way to where his horse was being held. Bordon picked up a few colorful phrases, aimed at O'Hara, which made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. He had never heard that one before and he would have preferred not to either. He almost pitied O'Hara as heard Tavington growl something about making the little bastard regret he'd ever crossed him. However, Bordon was inclined to agree with Tavington having been the one to break up several of the near fights between the two.

            Tavington reached his horse and relieved the soldier from holding it. He flipped the reins over the horse's ears and swung up into the saddle. Bordon looked up at him, wondering what he should do.

               "Where are you going, sir?" Bordon asked.

               "For a ride," Tavington snapped. "Maybe I'll find some stray rebels to terrorize as well."

            With that Tavington spun his horse expertly around on its rear legs, and kicked it into a gallop. Soldiers and officers scattered right and left as his horse charged out of the camp, trailing chaos behind him. Bordon sighed heavily. He would hate to be one of those colonials right now if Tavington caught up to them in his fit of rage. He shook his head and turned away toward his tent. All he could do was wait for the Colonel to come back. In the mean time, he'd catch up on some much needed rest.

**Finis!!**


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